Adaptive people
The first half of this winter was a frustrating experience.
One of the joys of living in Saskatchewan is scoffing at people who regard this area is Canada’s Siberia because of -30 and -40 temperatures that normally happen sometime during winter.
“We are dressed and housed for that kind of weather,” we tell the scoffers. “Our cold is dry and purifying, not like your muggy dampness.”
El Nino turned that all around for the first half of this winter. The warm Pacific current caused some terrific coastal storms but cancelled out our normal Prairie year-end. Precipitation of any kind was minuscule, largely because it was all falling on B.C. Temperatures were unseasonably warm.
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When the Granum area was swept with an old-fashioned prairie fire in December, killing cattle and ruining pastureland, one could see how tinder-dry the terrain had become.
Back of our house is a hill where youngsters tried to toboggan every time there was a skiff of snow but bare patches made for abrupt stops to some runs. Fortunately, we did manage to dodge around El Nino long enough to catch a batch of snow, cold and wind as we launched the New Year.
Predicting Prairie weather is a sure recipe for egg on the face. A storm out in the Pacific, or a swirl of icy wind from Hudson Bay, or a frosty blast from the Northwest Territories, or even a blizzard that moves out of Montana can suddenly change a calm, balmy day into a real door-slammer. When cold weather descends, what do real Prairie people do?
They flood their skating rinks.
